Training Sessions
by nerdsandnutella
Summary: A glimpse of what it was like to train with Bruce Wayne. Hint: it wasn't easy. Each chapter stars a different Robin. Tim's chapter is up!
1. Dick

This isn't the best thing I've ever written, but I just wanted to prove to you guys that I'm still breathing! I _promise_ I will upload the last chapter of TRK as soon as I figure out how I want to end it. It's coming, I promise!

I'm thinking that this fic will have four chapters, each one centered on a different Robin. Jason will be next (I've already started it so it shouldn't be long) then Tim and Damian. I've really missed this but it's hard to write for enjoyment when I'm constantly writing papers I hate. I'm gonna try my best to write faster (and better quality hopefully) and get everything out to all of you guys as soon as possible. Much love for all the encouragement! Again, you guys are why I write. Feedback is always welcome.

* * *

 _Thwack!_

Dick hit the ground for the 10th time in 15 minutes.

"Bruuce…" he groaned from his familiar place on the floor, "I'm an acrobat, not a ninja! Why do we have to spar all the freaking time? You're so much better than all those stupid criminals anyway. I think I'm perfectly capable of kicking their asses already."

Bruce moved out of his fighting stance and started unwrap the white medical tape that protected his knuckles. "And that is exactly why you aren't ready."

"But-"

"I'm doubling your regimen tomorrow. You're my partner and I need to be able to trust your physical abilities." Tossing the tape aside and lifting a clean towel from a rack that Alfred kept fully stocked, Bruce strode towards the changing area to prepare for patrol. "And," he added without turning around, "I want 10 miles in under one hour. Now."

Dick opened his mouth to argue again.

"Would you like to add 10 more?"

"Slave driver," Dick muttered, as he trudged to the track.

Exactly fifty-nine minutes and twenty-six seconds later, Dick collapsed in a sweaty heap on the blessedly cold rubber track. His face was smushed on the cool ground that smelled like dirty socks and pencil erasers, but he didn't care.

"Master Dick?" Alfred's voice echoed in the gym. "I have dinner served upstairs. Do hurry before your meal gets cold."

Dick groaned and rolled over. "I can't, Alfie."

"And why not?"

"I think I'm dead."

"You are not dead, Master Dick. Please come eat your dinner."

Dick groaned even louder, but made an attempt to rise. He struggled onto his knees, and then Alfred was there, and with strength that belied his age, pulled his charge up to his feet.

"No, you're right," Dick said with a grimace," "I hurt too much to be dead. Please tell me there's an ice bath in my near future." He shook out his legs and arms to release some lactic acid and walked under his own power to the bottom of the staircase that led out of the cave and away from the physical torture that was Bruce's training.

In that moment, the big man himself emerged in costume with the cowl loose around his neck. He glanced at his foster son and butler in passing as he prepped for the Batman's nightly patrol. "Dick, have you finished your French homework? I saw your last test grade let much to be desired. You are better than that."

"I literally just finished your hellish run, Bruce! Can I have like two seconds to myself? Et j'ai reçu un quatre-vignt seize sur mon examen. That's a good score."*

"You missed four points Dick. You know we have higher standards in this house. I expect more of you."

And just like that, Dick lost it.

"Goddamn it Bruce, I'm not perfect! I never will be, no matter how hard I try! I'm not you, I never will be you, and if you keep expecting me to keep up with your unrealistic standards you're going to keep being disappointed."

"I am not the enemy," Bruce replied calmly. "I'm trying to keep you alive."

"But what about keeping me _happy_?" Red-faced and breathing heavily, Dick ended the argument by whirling around and scaling the batcave stairs two at a time, ignoring the burning feeling in his legs. He left an annoyed Bruce and scowling Alfred behind him. The latter glared at the former, but said nothing.

Bruce broke the silence and sighed. "What is it Alfred? It's not my fault the boy is unreasonable."

"No, sir, it is not. He is a teenager, and his emotions run rampant like every other pubescent boy in the world. He is performing admirably, in school and otherwise for a boy his age, and yet all he receives as reward is to be told he must do better. If you don't mind my saying so, _that_ is not his fault, it is yours."

Bruce huffed and pulled on his cowl. "This is ridiculous. I'm going on patrol. I'll see you in the morning." Batman jumped in the Batmobile and sped out of the cave.

"Now who is acting unreasonably?" Alfred muttered to himself as he began to scale the steps to the manor, his next job to attempt to console hurt feelings of the youngest member of his family.

There was a faint roaring in the distance as the Batmobile and its occupant returned home. Dick sat curled up in a chair in front of the computer, wrapped tightly in a blanket. A dark figured hopped out of the car and moved towards the smaller figure that occupied his chair.

"Dick? What are you still doing up? You have school tomorrow."

His head turned towards Bruce and looked at him with tired eyes. "I'm really sorry about earlier, I got a little touchy. I don't wanna fight, Bruce."

"It is alright Dick. I may have been a little…extreme in my actions as well."

"That was almost an apology! Alfie yelled at you, huh?

"…Possibly."

"I love you too big man."

* * *

*And I got a ninety-six on my test.

Thanks for reading, I love you all!


	2. Jason

**That was a decently quick turnaround, I think. I'm still working on TRK, and making good progress despite numerous escape attempts by the plot bunny. I should have that out sometime next week, so keep a weather eye on the horizon. Let me know what you think! (Review responses at the bottom.)**

* * *

"ARRGH" Jason yelled in frustration when he missed his snatch by inches. Immediately, he knelt down and placed his hands on the bar again, staring at the weights with determination. _I will_ not _be weak. If Bruce can do this, so can I. There's no excuse._ Jason cracked his knuckles and got back into position.

Just as he was about to begin his second attempt, Bruce entered the gym dressed for work.

"Jason, it is six in the morning."

"Yeah, I know."

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Does it matter? You hardly ever sleep. Plus you patrol every single night and I only get to go on weekends." Jason made a face at that fact, showing exactly what he thought about the school-night rule.

"How many times do I have to remind you? Jason, you are a child, no matter how much you try to deny it. And you know very well that school always comes before extracurricular activities."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes and went back to his weightlifting.

Bruce stopped him by stepping directly in front of the bar and looking his youngest son in the eyes. "Go get ready for school. I don't want to see you in here until after you get back and completed all of your homework to Alfred's standards. Otherwise, I may have to reconsider bringing Robin on patrol tonight."

"Seriously?! I have afternoon gym training planned and Alf is never going to think my work is 'satisfactory.' This is such bull-"

"You don't want to finish that." Bruce interrupted.

" _Fine."_ Jason kicked the bar out of frustration, then regretted it a minute later when his big toe began to throb. He stalked out of the gym, conceding to Bruce this time, but fully intending to come back later.

Bruce watched his son go. _He's too much like me for his own good. I don't want him to be so obsessed that he ends up hurting himself._ Bruce headed in the direction of the changing room, ready to begin his own brutal self-loathing inspired fitness regimen.

* * *

"UGH!" Jason shoved open the door to the manor and chucked his backpack angrily across the foyer. "I hate everyone at that stupid school! Nothing freaking makes sense and everyone thinks they're so amazing because their parents are loaded but they're all just stuck. up. _pricks!_ "

Alfred sighed tiredly as he moved through the open doorway his charge had just stormed through.

Jason's ranting continued to echo throughout the manor as he stomped upstairs. "…and no one ever understands me or even TRIES to, and then the only fun thing I get to do gets taken away and-" Silence fell downstairs as he slammed the door to his room.

 _Thank heavens. I don't know how much more of this I can put up with._ Making a decision, Alfred picked up the phone and dialed the direct line of his employer.

"What is it Alfred?" Bruce's annoyed voice carried through the speaker of the phone.

"I daresay I taught you how to answer a phone better than that."

"I'm sorry, it's been a long day. How's Jason? I assume that's why you're calling."

"Yes, well. He is having a rough go of it, Master Bruce. I recommend you return home immediately before he gets out of hand. He needs his father, to be frank, sir."

"I'm not his-"

"I think you know very well that is untrue." Alfred's voice left no room for other opinions.

"I have a meeting-" Bruce tried again.

"Cancel it." His butler's voice was ice.

"Alfred, I can't just drop everything because Jason's had one bad day, he needs-"

"He needs _you._ I'll be at Wayne Enterprises to collect you shortly."

The line went dead. Bruce rubbed his forehead in what was the beginning of a migraine made in hell. He knew Alfred was right, he just didn't want to admit it. Waynes had a history of hating to be wrong.

* * *

"Jason?" Bruce called. The boy was nowhere to be found. He wasn't in his room, the kitchen was empty, and there was no sign of life in the living room. That left only one place.

Bruce groaned internally. _I don't want to do this, but he has to learn to follow orders, to be a good soldier. I won't accept anything less from my partner._

But as Bruce neared the gym, he didn't hear anything. He opened the door and peered in, half expecting Jason to throw something at his head. Nothing came. In fact, the gym was totally empty.

"Alfred?" he called, looking around in confusion.

Alfred appeared out of nowhere, as he was apt to do in the Manor. No one could figure out how he managed to figure out the secret to teleportation. "Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Where is Jason? I can't find him anywhere."

 _If I'm not mistaken I believe there may have been a small bit of concern in that question._ "I do believe the young man is in the cave, training." Alfred said with a mysterious glint in his eyes.

Bruce looked at him curiously, then headed down towards the cave.

As Bruce descended the cave stairs, he heard not one, but two voices.

"Tuck tighter on that flip for a smoother transition. You're so close, I think you're gonna get this move today!" A cheerful voice echoed in the cave, one that hadn't been heard there for a long time.

 _Dick?_

Both his sons came into view. One performing a routine on the high bars, one on the ground. He watched as Jason went around the bar once, twice, then flipped off with a perfectly executed sommersault and landed in a defensive crouch, ready for an attack. That move was one Bruce had been helping Jason work on for weeks, but with no luck. Jason hated aerial maneuvers with a passion, preferring to keep his feet on the ground and use his strength to take down criminals. The fact that he was not only willingly working on flips, but perfectly executing them, was nothing short of a miracle.

"That was impressive." Bruce's deep baritone was obviously no surprise to Dick who kept his eyes averted, but Jason had been so focused on his routine he had failed to notice the big man that had entered. Jason whipped around, like he had been caught with his hand in Alfred's cookie jar.

He approached Bruce tentatively, stepping away from Dick and the high bars. "Bruce, I was just working on that one flip thing, I'm not in the gym, and I haven't finished my homework yet but it's really easy today and-"

"Jason."

"Yeah?"

"It's ok. I understand."

"You're…not mad at me?"

"A little, but I'll allow you to patrol tonight. I want to see if you can use that new move in a real battle situation." Bruce turned his attention to the other person in the room, who looked like he was avoiding eye-contact at all costs.

Bruce coughed slightly. "I have a hit on the Narrows planned for tonight. Robin and I could use the backup, if you have time to join us."

Dick finally met his eyes with an angry look. "You think you can just offer me a job and everything will be forgiven?"

"No, I-"

"You hurt me, Bruce, and you're hurting Jason. I'll be damned if I let you emotionally damage another poor orphan you picked up off the street. You better treat him right, or Nightwing can make things very difficult for Batman in Gotham. Don't test me." With finality, Dick snatched up his motorcycle that lay on its side, and roared out of the cave.

Jason looked at Bruce with something akin to pity. "It's ok, you don't have to say it. I promise I'm gonna make you proud someday." With that, he ran back over to the bars to practice his new skill in preparation for patrol.

Bruce watched him go with a small smile on his face. _You already have._

* * *

 **LittlePineCone: I really don't know Steph all that well canonically, unfortunately. The most experience I have with her is through quipquipquip 's "No Dawn No Day" series (which I highly recommend if you haven't read it already.) However, I'm always open to trying new things, so if I have a spare minute I'll do some researching on her and try it out. I need more experience with female characters anyway. Thank you for the suggestion!**

 **Sophia the Scribe: Can I just tell you how much I appreciate your sweet reviews on my stories? You make my day, seriously. I have not read "Twenty-four Months" but now it's on my list! Thank you for telling me about it!**

 **kagome04: Thank you so much for your sweet review! I always try to keep the characters in character, but it doesn't always work out. I'm glad I did well with that last chapter though!**

 **PrettyKitty Luvs U: Thank you!**

 **I love you guys! 3**


	3. Tim

**A/N: Sorry, again. I'm so inconsistent, but hopefully I'll get better about posting over the summer when I have more time. In the meantime, please enjoy and review this chapter! Please let me know what you think. I love you guys! (P.S. TRK still coming soon.)**

* * *

Incessant beeping woke Tim from his very nice dream about discovering a cure for cancer. Dick dreamt about the circus, Jason dreamt about hot babes, and Tim dreamt about science. _Figures. Gotta uphold my nerdiest brother reputation after all._

Tim groaned and rolled over in his bed, fumbling for his phone to shut the damn thing off. He reached for his nightstand where his phone lay, still blaring the preprogramed alarm sound.

Instead of grabbing the device Tim accidentally knocked it off the table, sending it flying even further from his nice warm bed. Tim groaned even louder than before, and muttered a few choice words Alfred wouldn't approve of.

Finally forcing himself out of bed, Tim sleepily made his way to the brightly glowing screen on the floor. He thumbed the home button and slid the lock to shut off the noise. As he did so, he noticed an unopened message from Bruce. It read: "Combat tomorrow. Come prepared. Be ready to begin at 05:00." Tim considered this information, then squinted at the tiny clock numbers on the top of his phone screen. 04:45. _Crap!_

Tim was definitely awake now. Before his mind registered what was going on, he had his workout shirt on and one leg in his pants, hopping towards the door. He thrust the other leg through the appropriate hole, pulled them up, and crept silently out of the house.

He ran around to the backyard and pulled out his motorcycle from its hiding place behind a bush. Tim made sure to walk it out far enough along the road so that it didn't wake his father when it started, then revved the engine and sped to the Batcave as fast as he could.

The motorcycle roared into the cave right at 04:55, just in time for training. Tim parked right next to his R-Cycle and jogged towards the sparring mat, stretching as he went.

"Good morning, Master Timothy. Would you care for a mug of coffee?" Alfred had materialized in the Cave within seconds of Tim's arrival at 4:55 in the morning with a steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee. When he slept was still a mystery Tim had yet to uncover.

"Yes please." Tim accepted the caffeine gratefully. "Where's Bruce?"

"Master Bruce…merely needed a few extra moments this morning." Alfred had a strange look on his face, one that Tim couldn't quite read.

"But he's never late, why-"

"I do believe it would be best to let the matter lie today." Alfred interrupted, efficiently settling the matter.

Tim looked confused and a bit apprehensive. "Okay…"

With that strange conversation, Bruce appeared at the mouth of the changing room. He seemed even grimmer than usual, and that was saying something.

Without even a grunt in Tim's direction, Bruce moved onto the mat and assumed ready position. _I guess that means we're starting._

Tim reluctantly set down his untouched coffee and stepped onto the mat as well, mirroring Bruce's body position.

Bruce suddenly flew at him without any warning, being unusually aggressive in the practice sparring match. It was all Tim could do to get out of the way of Bruce's punches fast enough, dipping and ducking as fast as he possibly could. Bruce aimed a brutal side-kick at his protégé that barely skimmed Tim's stomach, then followed it up with a strong punch to his face. Tim wasn't fast enough to doge the hook, which clipped his chin and threw him backwards where he landed on the mat with a soft 'oof'.

Tim shot back up to his feet at lightning speed, shouting "What the hell was that?"

Bruce's face darkened even more, something Tim didn't even think was possible. "You have to be better. I shouldn't have been able to take you down that quickly."

"Better?!" Tim was fired up now. "Better at what? I work my butt off every single day with you just so I can barely meet your unattainable standards for Robin. I don't know what else you expect from me!"

"You have to be perfect. On the streets of Gotham, you can't make a mistake. We're talking about your life, Tim. I don't know why you're so eager to throw it away."

"Because _you need me._ You have to have a Robin, and Robins make mistakes Bruce."

"And then they die."

 _Oh._

 _Crap._

 _Today is the anniversary…_

Like Jason."

"Bruce I'm so sorry, I totally forgot-"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted. "Go home for today Tim. Don't come back tonight." Bruce strode to the computer and fired up a casefile Batman had been working on.

"Are you going out?"

"That is none of your business. Now leave. I won't tell you again."

Tim put his hands up in surrender. He wasn't looking for a fight with Bruce. Not today. "Ok, ok. Just…be safe Bruce." He retrieved his motorcycle, kicked up the kickstand, and, with an apprehensive glance back towards his mentor, headed back the way he had come.

* * *

The manor phone rang at 11pm at night.

Alfred slowly stood up from the Batcave computer's main control chair to reach the earnestly ringing home telephone. _Who on earth is calling at this hour?_

The name of the caller designated that it was a certain young man telephoning the manor, knowing that its occupants would still be awake. "Hello, Master Timothy."

"Hi Alfred. Is Bruce 'out'?"

"Yes, he is out working tonight. Did you wish to speak with him?"

"No, I just wanted to make sure he wasn't there before I come over. I wanted to get in the training that I couldn't this morning. I'll see you soon!"

The phone line went dead. Alfred smiled to himself, then turned his attention back to Batman's radio transmissions.

* * *

Tim had just finished his final set of 40 weighted pull-ups when the Batmobile squealed into the cave. Tim quickly leapt behind a weight machine, but he needn't have bothered with the caution. Batman jumped out of the car quickly and headed to the changing rooms, not even giving the rest of the cave a second glance.

Seizing the opportunity, Tim made a break for his motorcycle. He got as far as grabbing the handlebars before Bruce's voice filled the cave.

"I thought I told you to stay away tonight."

Tim's head whipped around to see Bruce in the mouth of the changing room door, cowl down but still in his suit. Blood ran down the side of his face from a cut on his temple, making for a more gruesome scene than Tim was expecting.

"Oh my God Bruce, what happened?"

"Nothing of immediate concern. I want to know why you came back, even when I expressly told you to stay home tonight."

"I needed to get in more training today." Tim twisted his hands, nervous about the ensuing conversation.

Bruce sighed. "Tim…"

"Look," Tim interjected, "I know today is the day Jason died. I know that my being Robin scares you. But I know you know that you need have a partner, and right now I am the best man for the job. You don't have to like it, but I am here to stay for now, and it would be better for the both of us if you would just man up and accept it."

Bruce was silent.

Tim looked him in the eyes. "I am going to do everything in my power to stay alive, to continue the job my predecessor can no longer do. But I can't help you if you don't let me."

Tim stared him down, daring him to argue with his infallible logic.

"Ok."

 _Wait what?_

"Wait seriously? You agree with me?"

"Don't get used to it. You do have a point this time, however." Bruce left Tim with his mouth hanging open in shock, making his way to the medical table, where Alfred was patiently waiting. "Jason was a hard loss, but he is not the first, and by no means the last. I must learn to handle it better than I have been. I'm sorry for taking it out on you. Now go home and go to bed."

Tim knew a dismissal when he saw one. Swinging one leg over his motorcycle, he grabbed the handlebars and turned the key.

"Tim?"

He turned back around to look at Bruce.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Robin."

Tim grinned, and sped out of the cave.


End file.
